Political parties: A sociological study of oligarchical tendencies in modern democracy

By Robert Michels

This is a great book. The author proposed the Iron Law of Oligarchy. Any social system, be it a company, a party, a country, will be controlled by a small minority of people. It doesn’t matter what is the supposed purpose of your organization. Your party might fight for equality for all. Your organization might fight against the dictators. But in the end, your organization will be dominated by a small minority.

The following are some quotes from the book.

in modern party life aristocracy gladly presents itself in democratic guise, whilst the substance of democracy is permeated with aristocratic elements. On the one side we have aristocracy in a democratic form, and on the other democracy with an aristocratic content.

The democratic external form which characterizes the life of political parties may readily veil from superficial observers the tendency towards aristocracy, or rather towards oligarchy, which is inherent in all party organization. (P 13)

In the society of today, the state of dependence that results from the existing economic and social conditions renders an ideal democracy impossible. (P 14)

all classes which have ever attained to dominion have earnestly endeavored to transmit to their descendants such political power as they have been able to acquire. The hereditary transmission of political power has always been the most efficacious means of maintaining class rule. (P 14)

Chapter 2. The Ethical Embellishment of Social Struggles.

No one seriously engaged in historical studies can have failed to perceive that all classes which have ever attained to dominion have earnestly endeavored to transmit to their descendants such political power as they have been able to acquire. The hereditary transmission of political power has always been the most efficacious means of maintaining class rule. Thus there is displayed in this field the same historical process which in the domain of the sexual life has given rise to the bourgeois family-order and its accessories, the indissolubility of marriage, the severe penalties inflicted upon the adulterous wife, and the right of primogeniture. In so far as we can draw sound conclusions from the scanty prehistoric data that are available, it seems that the bourgeois family owes its genesis to the innate tendency of man, as soon as he has attained a certain degree of economic well-being, to transmit his possessions by inheritance to the legitimate son whom he can with reasonable certainty regard as his own. The same tendency prevails in the field of politics, where it is kept active by all the peculiar and inherent instincts of mankind, and where it is vigorously nourished by an economic order based upon private property in the means of production, and in which therefore, by a natural and psychological analogy, political power comes also to be considered as an object of private hereditary ownership. In the political field, as everywhere else, the paternal instinct to transmit this species of property to the son has been always strongly manifest throughout historic time. This has been one of the principal causes of the replacement of elective monarchy by hereditary monarchy. The desire to maintain a position acquired by the family in society has at all times been so intense that, as Gaetano Mosca has aptly noted, whenever certain members of the dominant class have not been able to have sons of their own (as, for example, was the case with the prelates of the Roman Church), there has arisen with spontaneous and dynamic force the institution of nepotism, as an extreme manifestation of the impulse to self-maintenance and to hereditary transmission.¹⁰

In a twofold manner aristocracy has introduced itself quite automatically in those states also from which it seemed to be excluded by constitutional principles, by historical considerations, or by reason of the peculiarities of national psychology  — alike by way of a revived tradition and by way of the birth of new economic forces. The North Americans, democrats, living under a republican regime and knowing nothing of titles of nobility, by no means delivered themselves from aristocracy when they shook off the power of the English crown. This phenomenon is in part the simple effect of causes that have come into existence quite recently, such as capitalist concentration (with its associated heaping-up of the social power in the hands of the few and consequent formation of privileged minorities), and the progressive reconciliation of the old and rigid republican spirit with the ideas, the prejudices, and the ambitions of ancient Europe. The existence of an aristocracy of millionaires, railway kings, oil kings, cattle kings, etc., is now indisputable. But even at a time when the youthful democracy and the freedom of America had only just been sealed with the blood of its citizens, it was, difficult (so we learn from Alexis de Tocqueville) to find a single American who did not plume himself with an idle vanity upon belonging to one of the first families which had colonized American soil.¹¹ So lively was “aristocratic prejudice” among these primitive republicans! Even at the present day the old families which are Dutch by name and origin constitute in the State of New York a stratum whose aristocratic preeminence is uncontested, a class of patricians lacking the outward attributes of nobility.

When, in the latter half of the seventeenth century, the French bourgeoisie was vigorously pressing upward, it knew no better how to adapt itself to its changed environment than by aping the usages, the mode of life, the tastes, and even the mentality of the feudal nobility. In 1670 Molière wrote his splendid comedy, Le Bourgeois gentilhomme. The Abbé de Choisy, who belonged to the noblesse de robe, and whose ancestors had filled the distinguished offices of Maître des Requêtes and Conseiller d'Etat, relates that his mother had given him as a maxim of conduct that he should be careful to frequent none but aristocratic salons.¹² With the fervor of the novice, the new arrivals assimilated the spirit and the principles of the class hitherto dominant, and the distinguished members of the bourgeoisie who had entered the service of the state, which was still predominantly feudal, hastened to take new names. The Fouquets, the Le Telliers, the Colberts, the Phélippeaux, and the Desmarets, became the Belle-Isles, the de Louvois, the Seignelays, the de Maurepas, the de Lavrillières, and the de Maillebois.¹³ In modern Germany, under our very eyes, there has for the last forty years been proceeding an absorption of the young industrial bourgeoisie into the old aristocracy of birth and the process has of late been enormously accelerated.¹⁴ The German bourgeoisie is becoming feudalized. Here the only result of the emancipation of the roturier has been to reinvigorate his old enemy the noble by the provision of new blood and new economic energy. The enriched bourgeois have no higher ambition than to fuse with the nobility, in order to derive from this fusion a kind of legitimate title for their connection with the dominant class, a title which can then be represented, not as acquired, but as existing by hereditary right. Thus we see that the hereditary principle (even when purely fictitious) greatly accelerates the process of social “training,” accelerates, that is to say, the adaption of the new social forces to the old aristocratic environment. In the violent struggle between the new class of those who are rising and the old stratum of those who are undergoing a decadence partly apparent and partly real — a struggle at times waged with dramatic greatness, but often proceeding obscurely, so as hardly to attract attention — moral considerations are drawn into the dance, and pulled this way and that by the various contending parties, who use them in order to mask their true aims. In an era of democracy, ethics constitute a weapon which everyone can employ. In the old regime, the members of the ruling class and those who desired to become rulers continually spoke of their own personal rights. Democracy adopts a more diplomatic, a more prudent course. It has rejected such claims as unethical. Today, all the factors of public life speak and struggle in the name of the people, of. the community at large. The government and rebels against the government, kings and the party-leaders, tyrants by the grace of God and usurpers, rabid idealists and calculating self-seekers, all are “the people,” and all declare that in their actions they merely fulfil the will of the nation.

Thus, in the modern life of the classes and of the nations, moral considerations have become an accessory, a necessary fiction. Every government endeavors to support its power by a general ethical principle. The political forms in which the various social movements become crystallized also assume a philanthropic mask. There is not a single one among the young class-parties which fails, before starting on its march for the conquest of power, to declare solemnly to the world that its aim is to redeem, not so much itself as the whole of humanity, from the yoke of tyrannical minority, and to substitute for the old and inequitable regime a new reign of justice. Democracies are always glib talkers. Their terminology is often comparable to a tissue of metaphors. The demagogue, that spontaneous fruit of democratic soil, overflows with sentimentality, and is profoundly moved by the sorrows of the people. “The victims nurse their words, the executioners are drunk on their tearful philosophy,”¹⁵ writes Alphonse Daudet in this connection. Every new social class, when it gives the signal for an attack upon the privileges of a class already in possession of economic and political power, inscribes upon its banners the motto: “The Liberation of the entire Human Race!” When the young French bourgeoisie was girding its loins for the great struggle against the nobles and the clergy, it began with the solemn Declaration des Droits de I'Homme, and hurled itself into the fray with the war-cry Liberté Egalité, Fraternité! Today we can ourselves hear the spokesmen of another great class-movement, that of the wage-earners, announce that they undertake the class-struggle from no egoistic motives, but on the contrary in order to exclude such motives for ever from the social process. For the refrain of its Hymn of Progress modern socialism ever reiterates the proud words: “Creation of a humane and fraternal society in which class will be unknown!”

Comment: The whole chapter 2 is so good. I copy a big chunk.

Socialism does not signify everything by the people, but everything for the people. (P. 60)

Comments: Propaganda about socialism is more honest than Lincoln.

In parallelism with the corresponding phenomena in industrial and commercial life, it is evident that with the growth of working-class organization there must be an accompanying growth in the value, the importance, and the authority of the leaders. The principle of the division of labor creates specialism, and it is with good reason that the necessity for expert leadership has been compared with that which gives rise to specialism in the medical profession and in technical chemistry. Specialism, however, implies authority. Just as the patient obeys the doctor, because the doctor knows better than the patient, having made a special study of the human body in health and disease, so must the political patient submit to the guidance of his party leaders, who possess a political competence impossible of attainment by the rank and file. (P 61)

Whenever the Catholics are in a minority, they become fervent partisans of liberty. (P 120)

Comment: The oppressed are naturally fervent partisans of liberty.

As soon as the new leaders have attained their ends, as soon as they have succeeded (in the name of the injured rights of the anonymous masses) in overthrowing the odious tyranny of their predecessors and in attaining to power in their turn, we see them undergo a transformation which renders them in every respect similar to the dethroned tyrants. (P 120)

All those whose material existence is thus threatened by modern economic developments endeavor to find safe situations for their sons, to secure for these a social position which shall shelter them from the play of economic forces. Employment under the state, with the important right to a pension which attaches to such employment, seems created expressly for their needs. The immeasurable demand for situations which results from these conditions, a demand which is always greater than the supply, creates the so-called “intellectual proletariat.” (P 121)

There are two classes of intellectuals. One consists of those who have succeeded in securing a post at the manger of the state, whilst the other consists of those who, as Scipio Sighele puts it, have assaulted the fortress without being able to force their way in. The former may be compared to an army of slaves who are always ready, in part from class egoism, in part for personal motives (the fear of losing their own situations), to undertake the defense of the state which provides them with bread. They do this whatever may be the question concerning which the state has been attacked and must therefore be regarded as the most faithful of its supporters. The latter, on the other hand, are sworn enemies of the state. They are those eternally restless spirits who lead the bourgeois opposition and in part also assume the leadership of the revolutionary parties of the proletariat. It is true that the state bureaucracy does not in general expand as rapidly as do the discontented elements of the middle class. None the less, the bureaucracy continually increases. It comes to assume the form of an endless screw. It grows ever less and less compatible with the general welfare. And yet this bureaucratic machinery remains essential. Through it alone can be satisfied the claim of the educated members of the population for secure positions. It is further a means of self-defense for the state. (P 121)

As the party bureaucracy increases, two elements which constitute the essential pillars of every socialist conception undergo an inevitable weakening: an understanding of the wider and more ideal cultural aims of socialism, and an understanding of the international multiplicity of its manifestations. Mechanism becomes an end in itself. The capacity for an accurate grasp of the peculiarities and the conditions of existence of the labor movement in other countries diminishes in proportion as the individual national organizations are fully developed. This is plain from a study of the mutual international criticisms of the socialist press. In the days of the so-called “socialism of the emigres,” the socialists devoted themselves to an elevated policy of principles, inspired by the classical criteria of internationalism. Almost every one of them was, if the term may be used, a specialist in this more general and comprehensive domain. The whole course of their lives, the brisk exchange of ideas on unoccupied evenings, the continued rubbing of shoulders between men of the most different tongues, the enforced isolation from the bourgeois world of their respective countries, and the utter impossibility of any “practical” action, all contributed to this result. But in proportion as, in their own country, paths of activity were opened for the socialists, at first for agitation and soon afterwards for positive and constructive work, the more did a recognition of the demands of the everyday life of the party divert their attention from immortal principles. Their vision gained in precision but lost in extent. The more cotton-spinners, boot and shoe operatives, or brushmakers the labor leader could gain each month for his union, the better versed he was in the tedious subtleties of insurance against accident and illness, the greater the industry he could display in the specialized question of factory inspection and of arbitration in trade disputes, the better acquainted he might be with the system of checking the amount of individual purchases in cooperative stores and with the methods for the control of the consumption of municipal gas, the more difficult was it for him to retain a general interest in the labor movement, even in. the narrowest sense of this term. As the outcome of inevitable psychophysiological laws, he could find little time and was likely to have little inclination for the study of the great problems of the philosophy of history, and all the more falsified consequently would become his judgment of international questions. At the same time he would incline more and more to regard every one as an “incompetent,” an “outsider,” an “unprofessional,” who might wish to judge questions from some higher outlook than the purely technical; he would incline to deny the good sense and even the socialism of all who might desire to fight upon another ground and by other means than those familiar to him within his narrow sphere as a specialist. This tendency towards an exclusive and all-absorbing specialization, towards the renunciation of all farreaching outlooks, is a general characteristic of modern evolution. With the continuous increase in the acquirements of scientific research, the polyhistor is becoming extinct. His place is taken by the writer of monographs. The universal zoologist no longer exists, and we have instead ornithologists and entomologists; and indeed the last become further subdivided into lepidopterists, coleopterists, myrmecologists. (P 123)

Bureaucracy is the sworn enemy of individual liberty, and of all bold initiative in matters of internal policy. The dependence upon superior authorities characteristic of the average employee suppresses individuality and gives to the society in which employees predominate a narrow petty-bourgeois and philistine stamp. The bureaucratic spirit corrupts character and engenders moral poverty. In every bureaucracy we may observe place-hunting, a mania for promotion, and obsequiousness towards those upon whom promotion depends; there is arrogance towards inferiors and servility towards superiors. (P 124)

The desire to dominate, for good or for evil, is universal.¹⁴⁸ These are elementary psychological facts. (P 134)

To retain their influence over the masses the leaders study men, note their weaknesses and their passions, and endeavor to turn these to their own advantage. (P 134)

As far as concerns the leaders of bourgeois origin in the working-class parties, it may be said that they have adhered to the cause of the proletariat either on moral grounds, or from enthusiasm, or from scientific conviction. They crossed the Rubicon when they were still young students, still full of optimism and juvenile ardor. Having gone over to the other side of the barricade to lead the enemies of the class from which they sprang, they have fought and worked, now suffering defeats and now gaining victories. Youth has fled; their best years have been passed in the service of the party or of the ideal. They are ageing, and with the passing of youth, their ideals have also passed, dispersed by the contrarieties of daily struggles, often, too, expelled by newly acquired experiences which conflict with the old beliefs. Thus it has come to pass that many of the leaders are inwardly estranged from the essential content of socialism. Some of them carry on a difficult internal struggle against their own scepticism; others have returned, consciously or unconsciously, to the ideals of their presocialist youth.

Yet for those who have been thus disillusioned, no backward path is open. They are enchained by their own past. They have a family, and this family must be fed. Moreover, regard for their political good name makes them feel it essential to persevere in the old round. They thus remain outwardly faithful to the cause to which they have sacrificed the best years of their life. But, renouncing idealism, they have become opportunists. These former believers, these sometime altruists, whose fervent hearts aspired only to give themselves freely, have been transformed into sceptics and egoists whose actions are guided solely by cold calculation.

As we have previously seen, these new elements do not join the party with the declared or even the subconscious aim of attaining one day to leadership; their only motives have been the spirit of sacrifice and the love of battle. Visionaries, they see a brother in every comrade and a step towards the ideal in every party meeting. Since, however, in virtue of their superiority (in part congenital and in part acquired), they have become leaders, they are in the course of years enslaved by all the appetites which arise from the possession of power, and in the end are not to be distinguished from those among their colleagues who became socialists from ambition, from those who have from the first deliberately regarded the masses as no more than an instrument which they might utilize towards the attainment of their own personal ambitions. (P 136)

In many instances, in fact, reformism is no more than the theoretical expression, of the scepticism of the disillusioned, of the outwearied, of those who have lost their faith; it is the socialism of nonsocialists with a socialist past. (P 137)

Among the members of such a bureaucracy, there is hardly one who does not feel that a pin-prick directed against his own person is a crime committed against the whole state. (P 146)

Moreover, a sense of fatalism and a sad conviction of impotence exercise a paralyzing influence in social life. As long as an oppressed class is influenced by this fatalistic spirit, as long as it has failed to develop an adequate sense of social injustice, it is incapable of aspiring towards emancipation. It is not the simple existence .of oppressive conditions, but it is the recognition of these conditions by the oppressed, which in the course of history has constituted the prime factor of class struggles. (P 147)

With a genuinely scientific scepticism it has stripped away the veils which conceal the power exercised by the democracy in the state, showing that this power is really no more than the hegemony of a minority, and demonstrating that it is in acute opposition with the needs of the working class. (P 218)